


Buttercup

by SickSiren



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, implied amara/moze, pre zane/fl4k??, this is from 3 months before the game release so, uhh basically fl4k meeting the other vault hunters for the first time??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-01 20:16:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19184833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SickSiren/pseuds/SickSiren
Summary: Generally, skags in Pandora attempt to attack near everyone. This one is an exception.





	Buttercup

Zane wasn’t entirely sure why there was a skag at the station, but it seemed harmless. It was sitting at the stop, patiently panting, and waiting for the train like everyone else.

Well, like Amara, Moze, and himself. He wasn’t entirely sure the dead bandits littered around them were doing much besides decaying. The skag was likely just waiting for them to cook in the hot desert sun or had already had its fill if the chunks taken out of the bodies were to be believed.

Amara had definitely seen it and only grinned at Zane’s obvious confusion. Moze was just too cool to care. Which left him staring and gesturing wildly at the skag on his lonesome. It had a bandana on! Who put bandanas on skags?

Shit.

The skag stared intently at him, mouth snapped shut. The light of the pretty piece of tech decorating it’s eye suddenly seemed much more menacing. It was literally glow-ering at him.

“Ah, easy, pup.” He shot a desperate glance back towards Amara, but she didn’t so much as look his way. She always backed him up in a fight, but apparently one singular skag’s attention was too much to share. “Hope you’re housebroken.”

The skag lunged forwards. It was on him so fast he didn’t have time to draw his gun and could only hopelessly throw out a decoy to switch with while the canine pounced.

It blinked at the now empty ground in front of it, tilting its head and pawing at the ground before turning to Zane to bark at him.

And kept barking.

His hand was on a pistol, but he slowly let it drift away as the skag proved harmless. They were close enough it felt no need to run and merely meandered up to him. It batted at his legs with a pitiful whine and sat down like the most well-trained dog in Pandora.

Shit, were there dogs in Pandora?

“What’re you asking for?” He asked, not realizing he was talking to something that couldn’t respond until he heard Amara bark out a laugh. He was sure Moze was grinning just the same and resigned himself to being the idiot of the week as he crouched down.

The skag perked up when he squatted, sniffing at his hands which rested on his knees, then pushing his nose into his shirt. The skag got up and did a full circle around him, until it stopped behind his back.

It promptly dug its claws into his spine and forced him to tip over.

“The Hell?” He spat, fumbling for his gun--not just a pistol--when he realized it wasn’t on him. Neither was his bag.

There, in all its glory, was the skag digging into his provisions like a particularly famished human. It even popped open the containers using its teeth, holding the tupperware in place with its paws.

That was so rude.

“That’s so rude.” Zane repeated aloud. He pinched the bridge of his nose and laid down in the dirt. Rule number 367 of Vault Hunting: don’t take food from a skag. Or any Pandoran wildlife, really.

“That skag’s got you beat.” Amara snorted, striding over and gracefully pulling him to his feet. “Welcome to the wonders of domesticated species.”

“Wouldn’t call that piece of rubbish ‘domestic’. Look at it! Its got salsa on its face!” The skag in question blinked up at him. As if in understanding, it licked around it’s mouth (it’s tongue went all the way to it’s eyes and Zane shuddered) and completely missed the stain.

“Why do you have salsa in your pack?” Moze questioned, poking at the desecrated remains of his meals.

“Your MRE shit is bland. I’ve met accountants with more spice than that.”

“What’s that even mean?” Amara shook her head, her blue tipped hair hitting him in the face. Twice. “Know what? Don’t wanna know.”

“I’m with her. And next time? Don’t bring anything with a scent. Rakks and skags smell that sort of thing from miles away.” Moze explained, clearly from experience, seeing as she rolled up her sleeve to show off a line of scarred bite marks. “See this? Rakk flock. They nearly ate me instead of my food.”

“You know, Amara’s got a book--”

“Zane, I recorded July 27th.”

“Nevermind.”

Moze raised an eyebrow at them both and turned away. An excellent maneuver. It was best to walk away from their more. . . interesting activities.

“I’m gonna go take a piss. Yell if the train gets here.” Moze waved backwards at them, not even bothering to turn around.

“I’m gonna go with, never know what’s out there.”

“You just want to see if she’ll shag you.”

“You’re not wrong.” Amara flashed him a grin, pulling out a gun set to kill with her smile set to stun. The gun, for all of Pandora and the smile for Moze alone. “See you, skag boy.”

“Seriously? That’s the best you can come up with?”

“I’ll work on it!”

Just like that, Zane was left alone with skag saliva all over his possessions. His tupperware stuck together when he picked it up and it dripped onto the bag with a small splash.

“You’re disgusting, you know that?”

Except, the skag didn’t know that. It only blinked up at him innocently.

“Don’t try that. You’ve got guilt written all over your face.” He paused, poking the animal on the nose just to see if he could. “In salsa, too.”

The skag barked happily and he rolled his eyes as it valiantly attempted to climb his legs with those damned claws.

“No, there’s no more for you. Let me do this.” He managed to dry a few of his class mods off on his (expensive) jacket and dumped them back into his bag. Even the skag seemed to judge him for his lack of sorting as he resigned to re-washing the slobbery clothes later and just tucked them in hazardly. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Of course, the skag didn’t understand English and was unlikely to respond anytime soon.

“Come on, get down.” To his surprise, it did. “Huh. Thanks? Uh, good skag?” It nudged his hand with its snout and he awkwardly pet the little monster. All in all, not how he expected the day to go.

“Buttercup.” Oh, that was a new person. The skag rushed over to the voice and he saw. . .

Was that a fucking robot?

They waved, stooping down to pet Buttercup and stared unnervingly at Zane.

“Hello. Here for the train?”

“I was not planning on it.” They admitted, scratching behind the skag’s ears. They didn’t look away from him, though, not even when Buttercup rolled over and did an adorable impression of swimming upside down. They just rubbed its belly instead.

“Cool. Uh, I’m Zane.” Definitely should have started with that.

“F-L-4-K.” Some part of his mind translated that to ‘fuck life for okay’ before he realized that was just shitty leet-speak for flak.

“Good meeting you and, uh, Buttercup, too.”

“She was not any trouble?”

Zane eyed the wiggling creature. “She didn’t attack me.”

“That is not what I asked.” They cocked their head at him, standing and stalking forward with _Buttercup_ at their heels.

Zane immediately came to the conclusion that he had been hanging around Amara and Moze too much. Both the women were slightly shorter than him, but FL4K? FL4K was a giant.

A giant who gripped his jaw in one metal hand with none of the tenderness of someone tilting someone’s head up. They acted like they had seen it done before, but had no idea how to mimic it. It wasn’t painful, just unnatural.

“What planet does this greeting come from?” Zane muttered, his cheeks heating up as he crossed his arms. He made no move to stop them, though.

That stupid head tilt returned with vengeance, the light in their head flashing similarly to a blink. “I believed it was universal. The animals enjoy it.”

“I am not an animal.”

“That is factually incorrect.” FL4K informed him, releasing his jaw despite that. Zane cracked his neck in the short pause that followed, but the AI immediately started patting his head instead.

It was sort of nice.

“Aight, then, hands off. I’m going to teach you how to do a proper greeting.” To his surprise, they complied and somehow managed to look eager. It was probably due to how much they were leaning into his space, but he ignored it in favor of holding a hand out. “Grip my hand.”

“This seems strange.” FL4K’s four fingers wrapped around Zane’s five in the completely incorrect way. Their digits scraped his wrist and the empty hole of the fifth finger on the glove was limp against their hand. He adjusted their positioning for them, moving it so they were finger-to-finger as opposed to palm-to-palm.

“Maybe for you. Now, you give it a good shake and if you haven’t met before you say hello, your name, and ask theirs. Good?” He demonstrated the shake for them, a bit worried they’d decide to violently thrash their hands about, but they were complacent in the handshake and left their hand in the air when Zane dropped it.

“Educational.” They proclaimed, still looking where Zane’s hand had been.

“Same here. Your extreme awkwardness reminds me of someone. Say, have you ever spoken in haiku?”

“What is a haiku? Why does that matter to you? Is this a haiku?”

Zane groaned.

“Very funny. You’re not also an assassin, are you?”

“No, but you are.”

“Creepy.” Zane scowled. The ECHOnet knew everything and FL4K was likely wired directly to it.

“Apologies.”

“Eh, it’s fine. I’m retired.”

“How old are you? Most people desire to retire by the age of sixty. Your white hair indicates you are likely past your mid-thirties. However, your hair is fully white. This is indicative of someone at least fifty years old unless you are albino.”

“I’m going to have to teach you social norms, aren’t I?” Zane stared at the sky. “It’s rude to ask someone how old they are.”

“Why?”

“We humans don’t like to face the fact we’re going to die soon.” A whistle blew and Zane craned his head to see a train approaching in the distance. “That’s my ride. I’ve got to go fetch the girls.” Zane nodded them a proper goodbye and backed up a step.

“Okay.” FL4K picked up Buttercup and followed them.

“What?”

“What?” They parroted, tilting (goddamnit) their head again. Zane was so, so weak.

“You’re coming with?”

“That is what Buttercup did for me.”

“You’re not an animal either.” Zane huffed, giving in and speed walking the direction he thought Moze and Amara went.

“I prefer them to humans. You are very confusing.”

“Thanks, get that a lot.” He paused, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Moze! Amara! Train’s on it’s way, so pull your pants up and get over here!”

“Fuck!” Amara shouted back with all the lungs of a rakk.

In a few moments, both Moze and Amara were running back, sand kicking up behind them with each step. Moze’s cheeks puffed out with each labored breath and she didn’t even bother to question FL4K’s presence. She just grabbed Zane’s arm and dragged him to run with them, FL4K following a moment after.

Their joints squeaked and Zane was briefly reminded of the tin man.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Amara rushed forward, leaving them all in her dust. Zane coughed and covered his mouth, gagging on the sand. He’d definitely need water after this, but he understood what Amara was doing. As long as someone was at the station, the train would stop, but right now there were only dead bodies waiting to catch a ride. Not the most inviting sight for a train conductor.

Amara finished first, Moze second and Zane third by virtue of being dragged behind her. FL4K’s strange, plodding steps made them last as they all waited for the vehicle to screech to a halt.

“All aboard!” Amara laughed, far less breathless than the others. Excluding FL4K, who presumably didn’t breathe.

“I’m getting too old for this.” Zane griped, doubling over to clutch his knees and gasp for air. Moze seemed of a similar disposition, going so far as to sit in the sand to catch her breath.

“I recall you saying humans did not like to talk about their ages?”

“Who’s your friend?” Amara interrupted, lightly kicking Moze to get her up as the train finally stopped.

“Buttercup,” Zane answered bitterly.

“Hello. I am F-L-4-K.” They set down their skag, holding a hand out to a highly amused Amara. Zane and Moze both walked past them, not willing to jeopardize their ride. They shook her hand twice before releasing it as Zane had done. “And you?”

“Amara.”

“I’m Moze.” She waved, stopping only to pet Buttercup.

“Are you coming with us?” Amara asked, bouncing slightly in place like an excited child.

“Hm.” Their light blinked once and they nodded. “I am.”

“Hell yeah! Roadtrip!” Amara cheered, catching up to Moze and Zane to wrap her arms around them both. “Guys, guys. We finally have someone who can reach the top shelf.”

“I’m right here.” Zane complained, pushing her arm off and leaving her to laugh boisterously on her own.

“You climb to reach it, there’s a difference.” She had to let go of Moze as they squeezed into the train cabin, FL4K having to turn sideways to shuffle through the door.

“Hey, no pets allowed!” A particularly gruff attendant pointed at Buttercup with disdain. Zane couldn’t blame her, the thing was dripping drool everywhere.

FL4K, however, had no such qualms as they stepped up to meet her. “Then you should get off.”

“Oh, burn!” Amara cackled, slapping FL4K on the shoulder. She tried to pull them to their seats, but the woman pulled a gun from her jacket with clear intent.

Why couldn’t anyone in Pandora be non-murderous?

“I mean it, get off or I’ll-” She never got to finish her likely weak threat as Buttercup jumped out of FL4K’s arms and dug into her neck. Her teeth ripped open her throat, her jugular spraying blood across her face to blend in with the salsa from earlier.

The attendant struggled, kicking Buttercup away from her and propping herself up on her elbows as she clutched at the wound. Nobody in Pandora went down that easily, even for fatal wounds. Zane knew, he’d shot a bandit five times through the mouth before it slumped down.

Moze had already pulled her gun, an admittedly impressive machine gun, courtesy of Vladof. Zane pulled out his assault rifle as an afterthought, but it wasn’t needed.

FL4K shot the woman, point blank, with a sniper rifle. No scope, obviously, but the gun itself was quite neat. Seeing as the lady was no longer counted among the living, FL4K folded the rifle up and slipped it back into their coat before they went to pick up Buttercup and press their face to her in an approximation of a nuzzle or kiss.

“She okay?” Amara questioned, shifting in her spot. She hadn’t needed to take out a weapon, but her tattoos were still faintly buzzing with energy.

“She is dead. You witnessed me kill her?” They pointed to the attendant’s corpse with confusion as the train jerked into motion. Amara didn’t stumble, but FL4K, holding the weight of Buttercup, nearly fell sideways before they steadied.

“No, I mean your skag.”

“Oh, she will be fine. I will treat any wounds.” They promised, stepping back to take a seat next to Zane as both he and Moze had settled back down. Buttercup seemed no worse for wear outside of a scrape to her leg from the brief kerfuffle.

“Need any help?”

“Oh. Thank you, no.”

Amara sat next to Moze, leaning around her to watch out the window. The scenery passed the same as time and within a few hours, with a mistimed grenade and a ‘rabid’ skag attack they were known in the same way as a natural disaster.

FL4K was mostly glad to be along for the ride.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Study in Humans: Handling the Strain of Human Obliviousness by FL4K](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21699922) by [thisisxay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisxay/pseuds/thisisxay)




End file.
